Monday, 19 November 2012

the fire lookout

A Day in the Life of a Fire Lookout. from Gary Yost on Vimeo.

every so often t will go off on one about us needing to be out and about more, usually after a long day at the felt mine or somesuch. i point out that there's only so many hours in the day and we can't, in that stretched time that's required for making anything that requires imagination, be out lolling about in various guises when we could be doing the stuff we prefer (and, for me, actual work, being on the bike and the like). imagine, i suggest, if we could only be shut away with no distractions, how much we could get done. t, always the more sociable, will point out the many ways in which human contact might be beneficial. as opposed to isolation she will point out and then, looking at me, say, but that all sounds great to you doesn't it?

since i was wee i've always fancied those isolated lives - lighthouse keeping and the like - and i remember being very taken with the idea of being a fire lookout. true, i think  maybe back in my teens there was a big element of just being away but these days i could quite fancy the routine and rhythm of it all but most of all the quiet. last year, after days on the bike and no more noise than the wind, the sea and the tent we came back home to be deafened by all the racket, dazzled by the intrusion of the tv.

i remember too, the disappointment the first time i read about jack kerouac and desolation peak. me and jack, who were never really close, parted ways i think at that point. possibly i have more insight now but i still have the same sense of amazement that i had then, that he just couldn't hack it. disappointingly tho, i never did suss out how to do a stint myself to see if i would fare any better. seeing the above tho, i think i might...


Rachel Fox said...

Of course... a person doesn't need one of those occupations to get the isolated feeling! Just live in a small town and be a bit odd... it'll soon come!

swiss said...

i remember when i was in stornoway going just under three weeks without talking to anyone except the checkout person at the co-op. bliss!

being a place of particular characters, outside of new york, it's the place i've found most tolerant of personal foible. i said at one point that as i got older i intended to become more eccentric. my workmate laughed and told me that no-one was in any doubt that would be the case!